A Pink October Diagnosis

She was sitting in the doctor’s clinic waiting. Who knew it’d take that long… and who knew anyone could be that nervous. She was transfixed by the tiles in front of her. She never thought she’d be in this situation. It had been three years.

The doctor called her name and she slowly walked the few steps to the door where she knew her life might change in a heartbeat. She sat down with her husband by her side. She grabbed his hand. She had never been this afraid. Not when her brother was killed. Not when she got the news that her father had died, back when she was a new nineteen year old bride.

She remembered that day two weeks prior when her sons nagged her head off to go to a hospital and do a test she was putting off for three years now. She remembered how she nervously received the results that said further examinations need to take place. She remembered how she had booked a biopsy appointment and how afraid she was when she went inside those surgery halls and waited for something she never thought she’d do.

The doctor approached her then and administered an anesthetic. He asked her to look away. But it was too late. She had seen that gun and that needle and they were going to go in there and she was going to suffer like she never did before. The pain was tolerable. The idea of it was horrible. But she survived. What she didn’t know however was that the ten days she was going to go through in order to get the results were going to be worse.

She didn’t eat. She didn’t drink. She didn’t sleep. She’d wake up early on some days and sit in the living room to cry. She didn’t think anyone would know. But her son did because he’s as light a sleeper as she is. She wasn’t convinced that the reassuring words the doctor had given her were genuine. She wasn’t convinced by the pep talks her family was giving her. The only thing that would give her a peaceful state of mind was a piece of paper which held that sentence she longed for: Negative. And she was never happier about the prospect of hearing the word no.

The doctor spoke and she was unwillingly tuning him out. She had known it wasn’t good news when her husband called a couple of hours earlier and shouted at the secretary in order to get through to him after he had seen his wife go to hell and back waiting for the results that they both knew were available, only to see the look upon his face change for a fraction of a second before he regained composure and tell her that they need to go see the doctor. Why would the doctor want to see them if it weren’t bad?

And she cried without wanting to. Tears streamed down her face and she couldn’t stop them. The doctor uttered those two words. “Breast cancer.” And she felt her whole world tumbling around her. Her husband, her three boys, her mother, her sister…. They would all lose her. But then the doctor asked her to regain composure because it wasn’t all bad. The cancer was still in a very early stage and perfectly treatable. The few cells that threatened her life had a treatment course to them that could be easily planned out. She needed to stay strong in order to beat them.

So she decided that being afraid and weak wouldn’t get her anywhere. She decided she wasn’t going anywhere and she was sure as hell not letting a capsule containing a few malignant cells stand in her way.

I’m not sure where my mother would have been if I hadn’t convinced her to do a mammography this year. I’m not sure what would have happened if she had waited one more year. Odds are I wouldn’t have had a mother that wanted to hug me whenever she saw me, despite my efforts not to let her, if that had happened. Odds are I wouldn’t have had a mother constantly worrying about anything and everything every single waking moment of every day. Odds are I wouldn’t have had a mother who loved me unconditionally and never saw anything wrong in me. Odds are I wouldn’t have one of the few people in this world that mean more to me than this world itself.

I will not bore you with science that you will never care about. Knowing that women over the age of 30 have an increased risk of breast cancer especially if they had never had children is irrelevant. People fall through statistical cracks all the time and they’re gone before you know it. You never think that something like this would happen to you until it does. You hear those stories about other families having family members getting these cancer diagnoses but you always have the idea that you live behind a protective capsule that will never be broken by those deadly cells. Until it does. And that’s what I’m sure my mother thought long before she was diagnosed.

The only thing I ask of you is to get your mother and loved ones to see a doctor this time of year. Getting a mammography is an examination which would be uncomfortable for only a few minutes but it may save their lives.

Here’s to our mothers being there and staying next to us – despite their ungodly stubbornness and their resiliency to never take care of themselves the way they’d do of us. But we love them anyway because there’s no one else in the whole world who will love you like your mother does.

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Arab Porn?

I was linked to this YouTube video by a friend:

After watching it, I was like: Ok, this is funny and the girl is hot but that’s pretty much it. Then I looked at the view and it had 160K.

Then I glanced at the comments and saw ones that went like this:

–  i just got a boner :O – by alyehab

– omg this video causes two things:

1- hard work to the right hand.

2- I have to wash my p>. – by abufaisal1980

– the more appropriate title would be ” how to make a lebanese girl give you a BJ extremely fast” – by lifesnojoke333

There are far more comments of this nature on the video. The thing in common between the users? they’re from the Arab Gulf and they are so sexually deprived, it’s getting ridiculous.

According to my friend Paul Gadallah, Arabs would “find a bar in Beirut to be porn” – and I never thought I would agree to that until I saw the comments on this video. Fine, the girl has shown cleavage – big deal. Why don’t they ask for change in their countries so seeing cleavage doesn’t become this “OMG, I JUST SAW A PART OF A BREAST” moment.

Until then, it’s our sad fate, dear Lebanese, that whenever one of our women wear something even slightly revealing, it would automatically become the jerk off material for some (yes, I’m aware this doesn’t apply to everyone so spare me the comments of you not being like this) Arabs across the Middle East.

Arabs often stereotype Lebanese women as “easy” merely because they show some skin.  Is it their fault for such a stereotype? Absolutely not.  Although Lebanon still has a long way to go in terms of gender equality, regionally speaking it is much more open and is one of the few countries in the region where women can dress up, go party, and in have a regular boyfriend.  Lebanon even hosts the region’s first sexuality magazine, Jassad, owned by the famous Joumana Haddad.  In many Arab countries, especially the Gulf, women are seen as docile creatures and in Saudi Arabia, they still cannot even drive.  To them women going out showing some skin, could only mean that they are sinners; wanting sex bad and are akin to whores, but men going out and partying is perfectly fine, cementing the prevailing hypocrisy and justifying the ever prevalent sexual harassment in the region.

We, Lebanese, are proud of our women – as corny as it may be – just the way they are. Whether they choose to show skin or not, it’s not anyone’s business. And it certainly shouldn’t turn into a repressed Arab’s material for some good time.